Allegiance
by AnneAquila
Summary: An AU wherein Voldemort wins the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry is unconscious, Malfoy has lost himself, Ron is coping... somehow? One door opens as another closes.


**A/N**: Hey there guys! Here's a new story for the HP fandom, I hope you'll enjoy it!

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This has been submitted for the IWSC.

**School**: Beauxbatons

**Year**: Second

**Word count**: 2810

**Theme**: Voldemort Wins AU

**Prompts**: **Ron Weasley [Character][Main]**, Red [Colour], Snowing [Weather]

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**Allegiance**

_By AK_

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White snowflakes fell from the dark sky. The streets were blanketed under the white coat of winter. Christmas had been a dreary affair and an equally dreary New Year was round the corner. Cold wind blew relentlessly, making a young man walking down the road tug his cloak to fit flush against his torso. And yet, the chill in his heart was worse, far worse, than that of December.

Voldemort had won.

Diagon Ally was now a mere shell of the place it used to be. Taking in the desolate air and deserted stores, he couldn't help but reminisce about how the place was at its zenith. The colorful shop fronts, the incredible variety of wares and the delightful laughter from the newly-joined students of Hogwarts… Merlin and Morgana, truly a sight for sore eyes! But now…

He doubted that any shops would dare display even a speck of color or make a peep. None of them wanted to stand out, after all. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes used to toe the line but after one of the twins fell in battle, the door was boarded up and the windows were shuttered. A few of the younger Death-Eaters who had tried to vandalize the place were now in St. Mungos after triggering a vicious booby-trap involving eye-searing essence of thistle bush and a potion used to help snakes shed their skin. They hadn't managed to go past the porch. No one had dared go near it ever since.

Wanted posters were plastered over every visible space. The black and white depictions of 'war criminals' made the gloomy atmosphere even gloomier.

'_Kingsley Shacklebolt,' _read one of the posters, '_Known member of the Order of the Phoenix and Double Agent in the Ministry for Magic. Crimes are many, most notable being holding the Muggle prime Minister hostage…'_

Another read, '_Hermione Granger. Known to be a mudblood and one of Criminal#1's closest aides. Crimes are many, most notable being possession of stolen wand of unknown witch or wizard, impersonation of a Ministry official, breaking into the Gringotts bank…'_

Most of his family members had one too. His brother Percy was under charge of betraying the ministry. His father was under the charge of colluding with Muggles. His mum's was stood out as it was slightly bolder, naming her the murderess of Bellatrix Lestrange. And naturally, they were all blood traitors.

Above all of these, larger than the others by a large margin, was a poster with the words 'Criminal #1' embellished in bold letters. A picture was provided, the features depicted with surprising definition. Although it was in monochrome, one could almost see the piercing green of the wanted man's eyes. Beneath it was a detailed description of the wanted man. Unnecessary, really. Who didn't know Harry Potter?

However, it was true that few had seen head or hide of him in the recent days.

(_It would be hard for them to. It was highly possible that the Boy-Who-Lived would live no longer. He was severely beaten, more than just figuratively. The backlash of the 'Disarming Charm' that he'd casted combined with the 'Death Curse' that his opponent casted and, while the remnants of his Mother's sacrifice held, his magic was severely disrupted_)

During the last stages of the battle, despite Harry's miraculous revival, the last face-off between the Boy-Who-Lived and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was overwhelmed by the You-Know-Who. It was a miracle that the Order had managed to extract Potter, albeit with severe losses. In his anger, the Dark Lord had practically _leveled _the school. The shambling ruins of what had once been a castle were taken over by Voldemort as the Head-Quarters of his new regime.

Hogwarts was no more… but some would say it had been long gone.

(_He couldn't help the little voice in him that whispered, 'Harry, we were supposed to win, why didn't we win'? He knew it was unfair to his friend. He knew what Harry had sacrificed to get them where they were. He knew that. Still… that little nagging voice…_)

A cold wind blew past him and the young man shivered.

Even as he gazed at the grey countenance of the currently most wanted man in Wizarding Britain, his sharp eyes darted as a shadow moved even though it shouldn't have. Looked like he hadn't lost his tail as well as he had thought he had. He sighed to himself. All that trouble trudging through wet snow for nothing. And the invisibility cloak wet now too. Ugh…

Despite the nonchalant nature of his thoughts, his heart rate picked up. His mind unconsciously ran through the possible candidates. Could it be Rookwood? Macnair, maybe? The Lestrange brothers in search of revenge? He paid discrete attention to the glass window of a nearby shop and he saw a flash of silver. While he maintained his poker face, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of surprise. Surely it couldn't be… Oh Dumbledore's beard, it was.

Forgetting all pretenses at evading his stalker, he whirled around. He looked at the other coolly. Was this the person he was supposed to be meeting…?

The other's grey eyes were staring fixedly at a point above his head. With an air of disbelief at the face of sheer idiocy, the other young man raised his voice against the wind and said in a clear voice, "You know Weasel-bee, if you're going to use that invisibility cloak you ought to get a haircut."

The first young man started and took a closer look at his reflection. A tuft of red hair seemed to float unattached to anything else. After moving forward a few steps' worth of distance, it hovered uncertainly in the air. The air seemed to ripple and a pale hand reached up to touch the tuft of hair. A steady stream of curses filled the air. "…At least I remembered not to leave footsteps behind this time," he muttered.

Draco Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose as the sheepish face of Ron Weasley was revealed. Pointing at the red-head, he said, "You… are _so _lucky that I'm on your side."

Ron smiled tersely in reply, "Before anything else…"

A rustle of robes and the two men had their wands pointed at each others' necks.

"I suppose that you'll go first as always," said Malfoy. His voice was as pleasant as ever, but his grip on his wand was unyielding. Ron smirked, "First Year, I was in Hagrid's Hut with Harry and Hermione. You saw something you shouldn't have seen. What was it?"

A moment of silence.

"The way you make it sound… a dragon. I saw a red baby dragon hatching out of the egg," said Malfoy. Ron nodded slowly. The person in front of him was definitely Draco Malfoy. But was Draco Malfoy the one he was supposed to meet? "And the password?" he asked.

Malfoy let out a breath. "I wish she'd made it in green," he grumbled as he withdrew a scarf from his inner pocket. The red wool seemed unfamiliar in his hands, the shape fitting oddly between his fingers. Ron pointed his wand at it and muttered a spell. Crisscross lines appeared over its surface and formed the words that would allow him entry into the Headquarters of the Order.

"Read it and burn it," said Ron. Malfoy complied then burnt it with a quiet '_incindio_'. Ron noted that he used his mother's wand and recalled that Malfoy's original wand was still in Harry's pocket. Well, it was none of his business anyways.

Ron took out a shoelace with a frayed aglet. It was a portkey. Offering one end to his former arch nemesis, he gazed at his watch, paying little attention to the other. He had faith in the protective charms safe-guarding the place. It was Hermione's creation after all- much more secure than any old Fidelius.

He glanced at the other who was now pale enough to blend in with his surroundings. Ron didn't want to make conversation with the pure-blood prat, but curiosity got the better of him.

"Oi, what's gotten you so down?" Ron asked flippantly.

Malfoy leveled him with a measuring gaze. After a few awkward moments of silence wherein Ron's hand itched to punch the other's face just to clear the air, Malfoy answered. "My father," he said with his fists clenched, "He died- no… the Dark Lord murdered him."

Ron had a bad feeling. There was no long lost love between the Weasleys and the Malfoys, but he remembered how Narcissa had helped them escape.

With Harry unconscious, Voldemort muddled, the Death-Eaters confused and the Order panicked, Narcissa had taken advantage of the broken spell-restrictions of Hogwarts to apparate Harry out of danger.

Naturally, everything descended into chaos soon after. However, later on, the shell-shocked remnants of the Order received news from Andromeda Tonks that an unconscious Harry Potter had been delivered to them by a certain Narcissa Malfoy.

No one knew why she did that. They only knew that she had paid for it with her life.

But the remaining Malfoys were in deep trouble. Having fallen from the Dark Lord's favor, they were subject to the ridicule of the entire Wizarding society. Draco Malfoy had only his father shielding him from the wrath of the world but now…

Ron supposed that this was the reason that the other had chosen to seek refuge within the Order. Despite himself, he felt an inkling of pity for the other wizard. He sighed to himself.

It was a cruel, cruel world…

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It took a while for Malfoy to settle in. Still, it took far less than one would expect.

At first, the wizard was listless, staring blankly at nothing as the members of the Order whispered about him, barely out of earshot. They soon learnt to ignore his presence. He even slipped out of Ron's mind.

Molly Weasley, however, was not like most. Worrying about the wizard who looked like he had lost his soul, she put him to task in the kitchen. Ron had walked in on the pure-blood washing dishes with sleeves rolled up and an air of bemusement as Molly chattered on about that night's dinner. He walked back out without a word.

Snow turned to slush, the slush to dew which nourished the seedlings that bloomed as Spring arrived. Malfoy had become a part of their lives, albeit a quiet part. It was weird to see the loud obnoxious twat be so quiet, but they would take what they could get.

Turns out, Malfoy had a talent for healing. Who would've thought?

After a particularly urgent case where Percy had returned nearly mangled after a fight where several Death-Eaters had ganged up on him, the panic-stricken Draco had performed emergency first aid. Later on, with Molly Weasley wailing her gratitude towards him saving her son, the Order appointed him as their official Healer.

The position held no power, but it gave Draco a reason to live. He caught onto it and thrived. Devouring every piece of medical literature that he could put his hand on, he put even Hermione to shame with his intensity. Ron had to admit to himself that if Draco's father and forefathers had shared his tenacity, it was easy to see why they once held such high positions in society.

(_Ron took a moment to wonder when it had become 'Draco' and not 'Malfoy.' Not that he minded, really… childhood rivalries had long since dissolved. They'd even saved each others' lives enough times to be called friends_)

He did remarkably well and at one point of time, Draco was even asked to take a look at Harry's condition. Harry was alive, but he still hadn't woken up and that was a matter of great concern to the members of the Order. Draco tried his level best, but he was still a self-taught beginner. He could only scratch his head and say that he'd try to figure something out.

The days passed on, life settling into a semblance of normalcy.

But as all good things, it didn't last.

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A knock sounded on the door. Thinking it was Kingsley, who was always polite like that, Ginny Weasley answered the door. A flash of green and she fell to the floor. Within a second, she was dead.

Cries sounded out as the members of the Order fell one by one. Luna narrowly escaped a flying curse to warn Ron about the intruders. Ron was currently supervising Draco as the Healer was trying out a new way to treat Harry. His eyes flickered to the Healer with no little suspicion, but it seemed that the other did not realize the situation. Draco's brows were furrowed in concentration.

Suspicions temporarily alleviated, he said, "We need to go. _Now_."

Draco looked at him in confusion just as the door burst open with a groaning Hermione tumbling in. Ron took a defensive stance and motioned the other to take a look at Hermione's condition. Heart pounding, Draco confirmed that she only had superficial wounds when a weak hand clutched at his sleeve.

"Take Harry and run," said Hermione urgently, "_He_'s here."

There was no need to ask who 'He' was. Draco moved next to the unconscious boy just as a dark figure shadowed the doorway. Serpentine eyes looked at the trio who stared back with terrified yet defiant eyes.

Lord Voldemort sneered at them and lifted his wand. It pointed at Hermione. "Last time, that wretched woman's love kept him alive. I will take no chances this time," he murmured.

Ron's face paled and he immediately shot in front of her, shielding her from his sight. Hermione shoved at him, but he held still. There was no way that she would die as long as he lived.

Voldemort seemed amused. "If you want to be the first to die, I don't mind obliging… _Avada Kedavra!_"

Ron felt that the green light approached in slow motion. Just as it was about to hit, it was intercepted by a red one. Ron realized that Draco had cast a spell. He held his Hawthorn wand in his hands.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

To everyone's surprise, to Draco's most of all, the Elder Wand held in lord Voldemort's hand was sent spinning and red eyes widened in sheer disbelief as the backlash of the spells hit him hard. Still, Draco truly was the seeker of Slytherin and managed to catch the wand before it fell to the floor.

"But how…" he devolved into coughing. Draco only shrugged helplessly. The plague of the Wizarding World ended thus.

"It's because he's the true owner of the Elder Wand," came a tired voice. The trio whirled around to see the till-now unconscious boy sit up with a groan.

"During Dumbledore's last moments, I was in the Astronomy Tower, paralyzed and out of sight. I saw what happened then. Malfoy disarmed him. And thus, the Elder wand's allegiance was to him."

Harry Potter gave a wan smile at the gaping faces and continued, "At the Malfoy manor… I thought that I forcibly took your wand. But I didn't. You gave it to me, didn't you, Draco?"

Draco started at the memory and nodded slowly, "Those days… there are no words to describe how horrible it was. The oppressive air, the screams, everything… it nearly sent me mad. It was as if I was confined to that life…"

"I'd decided then," he continued, measured, "That I would no longer follow him. I wanted to do something, any little thing that would go against him. And when you three came… well. Call it my little act of rebellion."

He frowned. "If I may ask," said Draco, hesitant, "Why were you unconscious for so long? I could tell that there was nothing wrong with you, but you simply wouldn't wake."

Harry looked increasingly tired. "It was because of Voldemort," he answered, "I was his seventh horcrux, unbeknownst even to himself. However, after I severed part of his soul from mine, he realized this connection and managed to exploit it."

Ron sighed. "Well… I guess that's that," he said, bemused.

"I can't believe it ended so easy," said Hermione.

"Yeah," intoned Draco, a bit dazed. He looked at his Hawthorn wand in one and and the Elder Wand in the other.

"What will you choose?" asked Harry, curious.

Draco frowned thoughtfully before resolutely placing the Elder Wand down. "This was the one which my Mother chose for me. I will take this one," he said. He felt a warm rush of magic through his hawthorn wand and smiled slightly.

The trio smiled back at him. It had been a long battle. But now…

All was well.

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**A/N**: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it and don't forget to review!


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